


do you remember me?

by jayeinacross



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-17
Updated: 2012-07-17
Packaged: 2017-11-10 03:56:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/461950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jayeinacross/pseuds/jayeinacross
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merlin’s not exactly sure when he realized what was happening.</p>
            </blockquote>





	do you remember me?

**Author's Note:**

> For my angst bingo prompt 'time loops'. 
> 
> Also written for the merlinxarthur lj comm's Fanfic Challenge #8.  
> [Picture prompt #11 used.](http://i574.photobucket.com/albums/ss188/bcmoodtheme/mxaficchallenge8/812.jpg)

Merlin’s not exactly sure when he realized what was happening. The awareness didn’t come for a long time, and gaining all those memories only confused him more. Now, there are so many memories that they all seem to blur and meld together. So many lifetimes that Merlin has lost count.

Some parts just jump out at him, vivid memories like the events had happened only the day before, and some, Merlin only has the vaguest recollection of, but he knows that there are always three constants.

One: Merlin loves Arthur.

Two: Arthur loves Merlin.

Three: It can only end in tragedy.

He remembers slowly, before he even meets Arthur in that lifetime, that he’s stuck in this strange time loop, and that the end will always be the same. 

But not this time. Merlin’s sitting with Gwen on the bleachers, disgruntled that she’s dragged him along to another stupid football game to giggle over Lance – who, admittedly, is a very sweet, very hot guy, so Merlin supposes he can understand her crush on him – when he sees Arthur on the field.

It’s strange, because he’s seen Arthur like this more times than he can count – Gwen really likes Lance – but their eyes meet and it’s like a cliché romance film, except Merlin remembers everything all of a sudden, and he feels a wave of sickening vertigo as he realizes that this irritating football player is the love of his multiple lives.

And the sickening part is literal, so he has to mumble to Gwen that he’s going to the bathroom and stumble awkwardly out of the bleachers, trying not to throw up on any of the unsuspecting bystanders.

It’s never happened before like this. It’s always disconcerting and stunning, but it’s never been so dizzying and powerful before, so many memories hitting him at once.

Once the sickness fades and Merlin feels a little steadier, he’s surprised once again when he realizes how many people there are from his first life here. There have never been so many similarities before – there are usually a few people who show up that Merlin recognizes, but it’s never been on this scale before.

A worried Gwen appears, but Merlin just tells her he’s feeling ill and that he’s going to take the bus home. He convinces her to stay and watch the rest of the game; he’ll be fine, he just needs some rest.

Gwen agrees reluctantly, and Merlin’s glad she didn’t push it – he needs some time to compile his thoughts, and being around her is hard with the memories bombarding him like this.

At the bus stop, he meets a sweet girl who’s in the year below him at school, Freya, and he remembers her from three lifetimes. The first, when they fell in love and he set her alight and pushed her out onto the lake to burn. The second, when he met her briefly at the one riding class that he attended – they spoke a few times, but Merlin generally tried to avoid her – he was with Arthur, and he wasn’t ready to face his guilt. And the third, when he’d been one of his best friends and saw him through falling in love with Arthur then losing him.

Freya smiles at him, and he smiles back, but he sits away from her. Now that he has his memories of his previous lives back, he realizes that he misses her, but it’s too soon.

When he gets off at his stop, he gives a little wave to Freya, who smiles at him again. It’s only a five minute walk to his house, and he goes straight to his room and collapses on his bed, grateful that his mum is out with a friend for most of the day.

Merlin falls asleep quickly and dreams of heavy days in Camelot watching people burn at the stake, of one short summer that he and Arthur spent together before it burned out too fast, until he wakes with a jolt at the feeling of a wet cloth on his forehead.

“You have a fever,” his mother says, worriedly, sponging at his forehead, the way she used to do when Merlin spent too long in the reading and falling asleep in the sun. “When I came home, you were asleep, but you were burning up.”

“I think I’m coming down with something,” Merlin mutters, and his mother fusses over him for a while more until he convinces her that he just needs some rest and she leaves him alone with instructions to call for her if he needs anything at all.

Merlin learned a long time ago that fighting it was the wrong thing to do. It only made things turn out worse, so all he can do is watch how it plays out; relive the experience of falling in love with Arthur that’s the same but always a little different, and watch as it all falls apart in the end.

Once he’s gotten over the sudden bombardment of memories, Merlin recovers quickly, and he’s fine to go back to school on Monday. Gwen’s relieved to see that he’s okay, but she’s even more excited to tell him about an end-of-term celebratory party that Lance had invited her to.

“And you want me to go with you?” Merlin raises an eyebrow, sceptical.

“Come on, Merlin! Please?” Gwen begs.

“Why don’t you just take Morgana?”

“Well, she’ll be there anyway,” Gwen says. “But it is her and Arthur’s party, so she’ll probably be too busy to hang out that much.”

“So the whole football team will be there, not just Lance?”

“Yep. Look, it’ll be fun, I swear. Maybe you’ll get along with some of them. Have you ever tried to get to know any of them?”

Gwen has a point – the only one of them that he’s even bothered to have regular conversations with is Lance and Gwen’s brother, Elyan. But Merlin gets the feeling that they’re not all as lovely as Lance is. He’s not really sure that anyone’s quite as lovely as Lance is, except maybe Freya.

And he knows that Arthur certainly isn’t, but what does that say about Merlin?

In the end, that’s what really makes him tell Gwen that yes, he’ll tell his mum he’s sleeping over at Gwen’s and go to the party with her in case nobody wants to talk to her, even though she’ll probably spend the whole night getting along fabulously with Lance and Merlin will be the one standing awkwardly in a corner, wishing that Arthur would notice him.

He doesn’t actually say this, though, as it would probably just confuse her and hurt her feelings. Instead, he just tells her that of course he’ll go, and she throws her arms around him and thanks him excitedly.

Merlin can’t help but smile at her eagerness. Gwen’s happiness has always been the infectious sort, and he’s seen more than one lifetime where she and Lance have been happy together.

Even if their happiness was sometimes at the expense of someone else’s.

Merlin doesn’t go to these parties very often, mostly because he doesn’t get invited to them often. But when Morgana does ask him to come along, he mostly declines, and right now he’s remembering why.

There’s too many people crammed into one space. Frankly, Merlin finds it quite amazing that the room is actually crowded, because the Pendragons’ place is gigantic and this room is probably as big as half of Merlin’s house.

Fortunately though, the sheer size of the mansion – Merlin can’t bring himself to call it a house; that would be an obscene underestimation – means that there are rooms that will be left unoccupied, and Merlin’s been here with Gwen enough times to know where the furthest and hopefully empty bathroom is.

Merlin opens the door, glad to be away from the sweaty swarms of people reeking of booze and shouting incessantly, but stops short when he sees Arthur Pendragon standing at the sink, tap still running. 

“Um,” Merlin says.

Arthur’s brows are drawn together the way they do when he’s irritated, and his mouth is open, no doubt to snap at whoever’s interrupted him, but when he sees that it’s Merlin, he stops short, and the words don’t make it out.

“Sorry. I just. Sorry.” Merlin hastily backs out of the room, closing the door and rushing to the library – yes, the Pendragon home is big enough to have its own library – where he’s absolutely certain that nobody will find him, so he has some time to himself to wallow in his embarrassment.

Unfortunately, he spends so much time wallowing that he falls asleep in one of the big plush chairs and dreams—of the sun reflecting off the surface of a still lake, of white-hot sand under his feet, of air so heavy and humid that—

“Merlin!”

Merlin jolts awake and finds himself staring at Arthur’s face, which is a lot closer than is probably necessary, but it’s the closest they been in this lifetime, and it would be so easy to just lean in, but Morgana is kind of renowned for having suspiciously inconvenient timing.

“Am I interrupting something?” Morgana raises an eyebrow as smirks as Arthur straightens quickly and steps away from a slightly dazed Merlin.

“No,” Arthur says shortly, and leaves the room.

“Come on,” Morgana says, nodding towards the door. “I’ll take you home.”

Merlin only sees Arthur a few times again that summer, and they don’t speak at all. Sometimes when he and Gwen are over at Morgana’s, or out having lunch, he’ll catch a glimpse of the other boy, but if Arthur sees him, he doesn’t let on.

After the summer break, Merlin sees Arthur at school. They’ve never been that friendly, never really spoken before, so why should things be different now?

Except it is different now. Everything’s different now.

Merlin doesn’t realize just how different until weeks later, when the air has started to cool and the leaves are bright red and orange against the grey skies, and the rains start.

It’s a Thursday afternoon and Merlin’s in the local library, looking for anything that might help him pass his history exam when Arthur suddenly appears out of the stacks, making Merlin drop the pile of books he’s holding.

Arthur just stands there and stares as Merlin crouches down and starts collecting the fallen books, cursing under his breath, until Arthur starts to speak.

“Do you...do you remember the day you dragged me out for a picnic in the backyard?”

Merlin stumbles to his feet and just stares at Arthur, whose gaze is fixed steadfastly on the worn carpeting.

“Your mother had made an apple pie for you the day before. You brought it and that picnic blanket you’d had since you were twelve and a thermos of my Earl Grey into the yard and made me sit out there with you. You tried to convince me to jump in the pile of leaves you’d raked up the day before, and I was right to say no, because five minutes later you’d done it by yourself and gotten four leeches attached to you.”

Arthur finally looks up, and his eyes are full of confusion and hurt and fear, and Merlin knows exactly what that is like.

He’d gone through exactly the same, when he’d first realized what was happening, and he’s feeling it again right now.

Because Arthur remembers.

And Arthur’s never remembered before. Nobody has ever remembered, bar Merlin. He’d asked before, but it never brought him any enlightenment, only trouble, and then he’d stopped asking altogether. There seemed no point.

Merlin doesn’t need to ask now. There is no doubt about it, because Arthur could only know the details of that picnic if he had that memory.

“You screeched and I laughed until you threw one at me,” Arthur whispers.

“And then you sat me down next to you, pulled the rest of them off me, and kissed me,” Merlin finally finds the words to say, and suddenly Arthur’s in front of him, pulling him in and kissing him again.

It may be their first kiss in this life, but it may well be their millionth for all their other lives gone by; it’s amazing and perfect, and it’s very much against the rules to be making out in the library.

“Ahem,” the librarian clears her throat loudly, and when they jump away from each other, she eyes the books still scattered at their feet pointedly.

Arthur immediately starts collecting the ignored books, leaving Merlin standing there red-faced to stutter out an apology. The librarian casts one more disapproving look at them, then leaves.

“How—how long?” Merlin asks.

There’s a long pause, and then Arthur says, “I’ve been having...dreams for a long time. And I never understood what they meant. I realized what was happening in the summer.”

Merlin can’t help but feel his heart sink; since the summer? It explained how strangely Arthur had acted, but they could have had the whole summer. He knows that he’s being irrational; they’ve had years before, but Merlin still dreads wasting any time with Arthur.

“How much do you remember?”

Arthur frowns. “Bits and pieces. It’s all...there’s so much, and it’s not all clear. Some parts I remember better – like that picnic. And the first time.”

Merlin doesn’t say anything.

“Mordred. He...”

“Yes,” Merlin says shortly.

“Is it always like that?” Arthur asks abruptly.

“Like what?” There are a hundred different things that Arthur could be asking about their situation, and Merlin is praying for any of them except...

“Does it always end like that?”

Except that one.

Arthur’s stacked all of Merlin’s books neatly, but he doesn’t give them back to Merlin yet. “There was the first one, where...with Mordred. And some of the others I remember...a boat that sank. A car accident. Are they all bad?”

Merlin thinks of every tragic end that they’ve had, and says, “No. They aren’t.”

Arthur smiles, and even after all these years, it’s still dazzling. “I’ve missed you, idiot. Even if I didn’t know it before.”

“Missed you too, jerk.”

They don’t bother trying to hide their relationship; they’re not apart from each other nearly enough to try and pretend like they’re not together. To almost everyone, it’s a surprise, since they’ve never really been seen speaking to one another before – except Morgana, who makes smug faces and smirks a lot – but they just smiled evasively and insisted that it was a secret.

After all, how were they supposed to explain it?

Merlin’s in his room doing his homework on the rare evening that he’s not with Arthur; he has a test in the morning, so he jumps when Arthur suddenly bursts into his room.

“Arthur!” Merlin pulls his headphones out. “Jesus, you scared me half to death. What are you doing here?”

Arthur doesn’t say anything, just stands there, staring at him.

“Arthur, what’s wrong? What happened?”

“Do you remember how we always used to go to the lake? Back in the beginning?”

Merlin nods. They’ve talked about what Arthur remembers; a little more each day. Some things that Merlin tells him about, he has no idea about, or only hazy recollections of. Their first life is the one that Arthur remembers best.

“Well, so does Morgana.”

“What?”

“She asked me today what we were doing tomorrow afternoon, and she said I should take you to the lake again, because we always going there before.” Arthur runs his hand through his hair. “We’ve never been to a lake this time around, but she didn’t even notice that what she said doesn’t make sense. She’s been having a lot of headaches recently.”

“You think she’s remembering?” Merlin shakes his head. “That...this...”

“She was a Seer in our first life,” Arthur points out. “What if her power’s re-emerged?”

Merlin looks down at the ground. “Arthur, we...we haven’t seen any signs of magic for years. For centuries. It’s been too many lives since I had my magic.”

Arthur strides over and takes Merlin’s face in his hands. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, and kisses him. “It’s just that...Merlin, everything’s different this time. I remember, I’m remembering more every day, and now Morgana...”

“It could be nothing.”

“Or it could be anything,” Arthur argues. “Look, there are so many people from our first life here – more than any of our other lives, right? So what if all this means something?”

“Mean what?” Merlin says, more sharply than he means to.

Arthur stiffens. “I don’t know, Merlin.”

“Arthur...”

“No, I’m sorry I interrupted you. I know you’re busy. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Merlin turns back to his schoolbooks when Arthur’s gone, but he can’t concentrate on studying. Arthur might have a point.

He just can’t face it right now, not with Arthur so close to him and the rain beating down on the roof.

They don’t talk about it again, and the constant rain turns to drizzles, the wind chills and there’s frost in the front garden every morning. Merlin’s dreams turn to freezing rivers with icy water, and long, empty months. 

But it’s early one morning and Merlin is angrily kicking at his broken radiator when he feels a surge of power that he hasn’t felt in so long, and his room is suddenly warm, the radiator humming contentedly.

And he knows that he and Arthur have to talk about it again.

They skip school that day and go to Arthur’s; Uther’s out of town for a few days and it’s blissfully warm inside the Pendragon home. They’re curled up on the couch together, and Merlin’s been silent for a long time. Arthur just waits.

“I used magic today,” Merlin whispers.

Merlin feels Arthur tense beside him, but from fear or excitement, he doesn’t know.

“Can you do it again?”

“I haven’t tried,” Merlin confesses. “I’m...Arthur. I haven’t had it for so long. I don’t know why I have it again now.”

“Everything’s different now, Merlin,” Arthur says, his voice full of determination and passion, the kind that makes Arthur a leader. “There’s so many—Merlin, maybe we can change it.”

“Change what?”

Arthur stills, and says quietly, “You didn’t have to lie to me, you know.”

Merlin doesn’t say anything.

“Did you think I wouldn’t figure it out? Merlin, you know my memories have been coming back. I remember a lot more now. I remember drowning in a freezing lake and being buried under snow—”

“Stop!” Merlin jumps up and starts an agitating pacing. “Arthur, it’s me, it’s my fault – you don’t understand how long I’ve lived with this. How many times I’ve watched you die, and all because you loved me and I couldn’t let go.”

“Merlin, don’t be stupid. You can’t blame yourself for this.”

“You didn’t see me the first time. You couldn’t know what it was like, watching you and Mordred at Camlann. And then seeing it happen over and over again.”

“I don’t care, Merlin,” Arthur insists. “I don’t care about any of that, at least we get to be together. And we wouldn’t, if it weren’t for you.”

Arthur’s right, but not in the way he thinks he is.

It’s much, much more than that.

Merlin sits down again, takes Arthur’s hand in his. “Arthur, let’s just forget about this for now.”

“Merlin, don’t you think we should talk about this?” Arthur frowns.

“I think you should forget about this conversation,” Merlin says firmly, his eyes glowing gold, reaching up to touch Arthur’s face, “and go to sleep.”

Arthur’s eyes droop, and he slowly slumps down onto the arm of the couch.

After that, Merlin is careful not to mention anything that might lead back to what they talked about that day, and Arthur never brings it up again.

Then it’s spring, the ice melting and the blossoms blooming, and Arthur can finally come home with only dry dirt and grass stains on his football uniform, instead of being covered in mud, and Merlin stops having nightmares about cold, deep water.

Spring has always been their favourite season.

Merlin takes advantage of a weekend football camp that Arthur goes on to visit Ealdor, his hometown. His mum is working and can’t come, but she gives him a tin of homemade biscuits to give to his uncle Gaius.

He catches the train and thinks about what he’s going to do, but he’d made his mind up a week after he’d used magic on Arthur in the middle of winter.

The day that he’d gotten a phone call from Gaius, and his old uncle had spoken of things that nobody but he and Arthur remembered by now.

“Uncle Gaius,” Merlin says, warmly, when the door opens, and the white-haired man draws him into a hug.

“Is my sister feeding you at all?” Gaius asks with affection for his little sister in his voice, once they’re sat down and sharing the biscuits.

“Don’t worry, I still eat all the cookies at home,” Merlin grins. “She says she misses you. We both miss you.”

“Then you should visit more often.” Gaius looks at him closely. “But you’re not here because you miss me, Merlin.”

It’s been weeks since that phone call, but neither of them have forgotten.

“You remember?” Merlin asks bluntly.

“Yes. Not everything, but enough.”

“Tell me how to stop it,” Merlin says, suddenly desperate. Gaius has always been able to help, his wealth of knowledge always useful, even if Merlin has always been more powerful. “Tell me how to end this.”

“I can’t, Merlin,” Gaius says simply, and watches his nephew’s face fall with regret. “There’s nothing I can do. After Camlann, your magic—you were out of control for some time. I believe that your magic instinctively tried to protect you and serve you by giving you what you wanted most.”

“Me, and Arthur. Together.”

“For the rest of time.”

“And there’s no way I can reverse it? It’s my spell, isn’t it? Doesn’t that mean that I should be able to fix it?”

“Perhaps, Merlin, but there is no way to tell. Your magic spun out of control and without your mind properly focused to restrain it, it reached unimaginable power. It is unlikely that you would be able to extend and control your magic well enough to be able to reverse the spell.”

Merlin slumps in his chair. But there’s one more thing that he has to ask.

“Gaius...since ever reincarnation always mirrors our first life. Do you think...I mean, Arthur and I. We were in love.”

“Do I think that your magic also manipulated Arthur’s feelings for you in every subsequent life?”

Merlin nods wordlessly.

“Love and magic are two very mysterious things, Merlin. You may never know.”

When Merlin stands, he thanks Gaius. “For everything, Uncle Gaius.”

“Do not be afraid to come to me if you need anything, my boy.”

Merlin is glad for the silence of the train ride home, and he watches green leaves and budding flowers sail past. When he gets home, he’ll go see Arthur. He’s missed him, and he should be back when Merlin is.

Even if Merlin is convinced that he has inadvertently been forcing Arthur to love him for centuries, he can’t stay away. Because Arthur’s love may be induced – Arthur’s always been loyal, almost to a fault, but never so strangely...devoted – but Merlin’s is real.

And he wants Arthur’s passion again, his fire, but Merlin was the one who snuffed it out, that sad winter’s day.

Arthur is gone once more before spring is over.

After all this time, after so many deaths, Merlin’s still not sure if it’s worse being with Arthur when it happens, or finding out afterwards.

But either way, it tears his heart out.

“Do you remember...”

“Shh, Arthur, don’t try to speak.”

Arthur shakes his head weakly. “We were married in spring once.”

Merlin nods mutely.

“We should again...next time, Merlin. Promise me.”

“I promise, Arthur, we’ll marry in spring again.”

“Good. You love spring...”

Merlin wonders if Arthur dying in his arms would be enough for him to let his magic take over again, to finally finish it all. To complete this tragic circle for the last time, but all of a sudden, he’s not sure if he wants it end anymore.

He won’t let go of what he’s been clinging to for so long.


End file.
